Hotel ‘errbody.

In yet another odd twist of fate, I’ve ended up living in a federal office park in Denver for ten days. Well, at a hotel in said office park; the people in my life might think I meant squatting by a loading bay… which wouldn’t sound weird at all.

This hotel has a continental breakfast to die for… aside from the turkey sausage, which tastes a lot like things I wouldn’t want my mother to know I’ve put my mouth on. Luckily, I packed a hoodie with a distended front pocket for efficient condiment-fu. This morning’s haul included a banana, two oranges, picante sauce (who knew?) hot sauce, maple syrup, peanut butter, a packet of oatmeal, sugar, and strawberry cream cheese. As a seasoned hobbyist, I consider the latter to be like spotting a unicorn. Damn this gluten sensitivity… I could totally make a ton of stuff with the bagels, danishes, croissants, and whole grain bread.

My room has a kitchenette with a microwave, coffee maker, iron, and mini-fridge. The coffee bar downstairs has tea bags and a few kinds of my precious International Delight creamers. No recipes are coming to mind right away, but surely tonight’s jetlag will produce some quality culinary brainfarts. Suggestions are welcome, as are nights out with any readers who happen to be in Denver County (translation: help, I’m surrounded by my dad’s coworkers and have to squelch my trash mouth).